


On My Own, I Reached That Place Within My Dreams

by green_feelings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/green_feelings/pseuds/green_feelings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is Harry's alone, but in a way, he really isn't. Harry can deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On My Own, I Reached That Place Within My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just a short drabble that's been waiting to be posted for a while now. I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> Title is from the song "Ai Nante" by Tegoshi Yuya.

Harry had never once dreamt of ending up in a relationship like this.

He was nineteen and he was foolishly in love, head over heels and he had been this way for more than two years now. Harry had expected it to change, to get less, to just feel casual after some time. Instead, his heart still swelled for every smile, every touch and every whisper.

Louis was bright like the sun and gentle and forceful like the winds, loud and boisterous like a storm. He was Harry’s first thought in the morning and his last at night — and often enough everything in between.

Louis was his, Harry’s one and only. But he never really was Harry’s _alone_.

Harry constantly had to share Louis with the rest of the world. In front of the world, they were friends and band mates, nothing more, nothing less. It was okay that way, they had had long talks about it and both of them had agreed that it was best that way. Harry didn’t really want to lay claim on Louis for the world to see.

He didn’t need that.

By now, Harry had figured that Louis couldn’t be his alone. Their fans loved them and Harry wouldn’t want it any other way. He loved seeing Louis’ eyes light up, that fond little smile on his lips when their fans yelled his name, cried for a single look, for a gesture, for a word. Louis’ face lit up with happiness every time he was told by a fan how much they loved him.

How could Harry ever not want it to be that way?

It had been difficult for a while. Harry had struggled having to share Louis. He had had the constant urge to prove that no one – not one of the fans, the other boys or anyone else involved – could love Louis the way he did. Louis was his and his alone.

Until Harry had had to realise that it wasn’t true. It was impossible in their position. Louis couldn’t be his alone, not like this. Harry had to share him, had to share his bright smile, his witty humour and his sharp looks. When Harry felt his heart skip a beat for a gesture, a smile, a comment on stage, he knew that his heart wasn’t the only one that had just skipped a beat.

It even wasn’t Harry’s alone, when it was directed at him. Their fans saw it all; found every little gesture, every look, every smile, every comment. And Harry had to share it with them.

It had been a problem at first and Harry had pondered over that for weeks. Louis had noticed and tried to figure out what was wrong, but Harry couldn’t have explained himself. He knew he had no right to expect having Louis all to himself, but he had struggled to accept it.

Until one morning, Liam had made an interesting comment.

They were sitting in the kitchenette of their tour bus, sharing breakfast. There was so much room in the bus and they could have sat sprawled on the spacey sofas, but Harry had insisted that – if they actually got time to have meals together – they would sit together at a table for meals. Like a proper family.

The conversation had somehow turned into some lazy banter and they picked on weaknesses and flaws of each other.

“Louis is so vain,” Liam pointed out, “none of us ever really saw your hair unstyled.”

“It’s unstyled right now,” Louis pointed out. He sat right next to Harry and their ankles were tangled under the table. His hair was combed and flat around his face, his fringe falling over his right eye.

“Well,” Niall said and pointed at the mess of spiky blond on his head. “Let’s say it this way. We’ve never seen you with bed hair.”

Louis snickered and shot Harry a look, as he took another bite from his toast.

And that was the moment Harry realised that Louis wasn’t completely his alone, but there were parts of him that were Harry’s alone.

Harry had seen Louis’ bed hair countless times. He knew what it looked like and he knew what it felt like to run his hand through that mess.

It were those little things, like Louis’ bed hair that made him Harry’s and from that morning on, Harry made a point of finding them and being aware of them.

“That’s too much custard,” Louis said another night, as Zayn handed him a bowl with chocolate pudding.

Zayn frowned. “How can there be too much custard?”

Harry glanced at his own bowl and looked back at Zayn. “He doesn’t like his chocolate pudding drowned in it. He likes it barely covering the top, so the custard taste won’t be too heavy.”

“Well,” Zayn said and flopped down on the couch next to Harry. “He’s not a toddler. Won’t die from a little more custard.”

Louis gave him an indignant look and Harry smiled slightly, before he took the bowl from Louis’ hand and poured a good part of Louis’ custard into his own bowl.

Louis gave him a grateful smile, before they both looked back at the TV screen.

Harry filed it into the corner of his mind that he had titled _Things about Louis that are mine_ and smiled slightly to himself.

There were so many things, Harry realised later, as he filed the fact that the blue of Louis’ eyes changed when he was tired into that corner of his mind. There were a lot of details that were only Harry’s. He did have to share a good part of those with the other boys, but he realised that they didn’t take them in the way Harry did.

Like the custard, the boys had definitely heard Louis complain about too much custard on his pudding before, but none of them bothered to actually remember. Harry did. Harry heard and saw and absorbed every little detail of Louis and he just _knew_.

He had to share the view of Louis’s laughs and smiles and crinkled eyes with the others, but he didn’t think it did to them what it did to him. They saw them, but they never appreciated it the way Harry did. Harry didn’t think anyone could appreciate it the way he did.

When Louis wore his glasses, the other four, their staff and team, they all could see him wearing them. The occasional comment was made about it, as Louis barely still wore them. But when he did, no one but Harry got to take them off at night, pressing his lips between his eyes, ghosting his lips over Louis’ eyelids.

Of course, everything that happened just between the two of them was Harry’s. The way Louis kissed, swirled his tongue against Harry’s – no one else knew what it tasted like, what it felt like. Only Harry knew where Louis liked to be touched most, what made him feel good, what his skin tasted like, how his lashes fluttered, when he was aroused and what his voice sounded like, when he moaned.

That was all Harry’s and a part of Louis that belonged to him alone. But that was part of a relationship; every relationship had that part, all the secrets that went on between the sheets and although Harry cherished every bit of it and loved every moment he spent with Louis in that way, he knew that those alone didn’t make Louis his.

The moments that did were simpler, tinier and of less meaning for everyone else.

Harry had seen Louis cry. Sure, others had seen the occasional tear on stage, when everything got to overwhelming or the wet glimmer in Louis’ eyes, when he was truly happy for what he got to do. But Harry had seen his _tears_ , thick and endlessly falling down. He was the only one who got to kiss them away and he was the only one who was allowed to see.

Harry had all of Louis’ trust.

Of course, Louis did trust the other boys. He loved them dearly, just as Harry did, but there were things that Louis only entrusted to Harry.

Those were his tears, his insecurities and the words _I love you_.

Louis didn’t give those to anyone outside his family. And Harry was incredibly proud to receive them, to be a part of Louis’ family. To be his whole family, while he was separated from his mum and sisters.

Harry was the only one Louis could look in the eyes and say those words.

And sometimes, he wouldn’t have to say it and he could convey it even in public. With just a single look, a small smile that was meant for no one else but Harry. It was that smile that Louis only smiled for Harry, no matter where they were.

“That’s mine,” Harry would say, tracing his fingertips over Louis’ lips, the smile not faltering a bit.

“What?” Louis asked.

“That smile.” Harry smiled back, his voice barely a whisper, as they were with the other boys, stuck in some backstage room of yet another stage in yet another city. His words were meant for Louis only and to be out before some interviewer would come and ask questions and they had to go back to pretending.

Louis leaned in closer. “I’m all yours, Haz.”

The smile grew wider and Harry shook his head, slowly. “No, you’re not.”

Louis frowned slightly, worry shining through his eyes.

“I’m sharing you every day,” Harry explained. “But I got these parts of you; like that smile and your tears, your bed hair and the custard on your pudding. Those are all mine.”

Louis laughed gently and pulled Harry in for a quick kiss. “And this,” he added.

Harry smiled against Louis’ lips, heard Niall complain from behind him just how _sickening_ they were. He didn’t pull back, though, indulged in the feeling of Louis’ warmth against his chest for a little longer.

He felt Louis’ heartbeat against his own and the smile grew wider, his eyes locking with Louis and he saw behind ocean blue and stormy grey that Louis felt it, too.

Harry filed it away in that little corner of his mind.

And added the moment to the enormous space Louis had claimed in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
